


Of Kinnaird

by kawakaeguri



Series: Rylen Appreciation Week 2/2018 [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Family Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 05:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13827258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawakaeguri/pseuds/kawakaeguri
Summary: Day 3 of Rylen Appreciation Week! Cullen visits Starkhaven in order to do some recruiting for the potential Inquistion. And meets Knight-Captain Rylen's mother. And her wooden spoon.





	Of Kinnaird

“Cullen,” Rylen clattered down into the foyer of the tower, greeting the blonde Knight-Captain from Kirkwall with more than a little surprise. It had been a little over year since he and the other templars had left the Gallows, and he was pleased to note that Cullen seemed a little better for wear since the day Rylen departed. The lean, gaunt, permanently exhausted scowl had been filled with a different sort of peace. “What brings you out to Starkhaven, lad?” 

“I have an intriguing proposition from the Divine and her Right and Left Hand,” he gripped the other man’s forearm in welcome. “A solution to the madness.”

“Aye? You’ve got my attention. Come on, let’s find somewhere quiet to chat.” Motioning for Cullen to follow, Rylen realized that the other man was no longer in the familiar plate heavy stamped with the sword of mercy. Instead, he was dressed in plain chainmail silverite armor, no emblem or heraldry at all to mark his allegiance. _Curious._

As soon as the door to the tiny office clicked shut, Cullen turned towards Rylen and asked, “How has the situation been here?”

Groaning, Rylen dropped into the plain wooden chair and dropped his elbows onto his desk, scrubbing at his face with one hand. “You heard about Knight-Commander Karsten? He and some of the others left just the other month as soon as they got word that Lord Seeker Lambert broke the Nevarran Accord. Said it was our duty to show our support to the Order, to the Void with the rest of the Chantry. I didn’t agree, obviously, so I remained here. A few of the mages elected to stay, having nowhere else to go,” he muttered. “The world’s gone mad, Cullen.”

“That is has,” the Ferelden agreed. “That’s why the Divine is calling a special conclave with the leaders of the mages and templars, to take place early next year in Haven. And failing that, she plans to reestablish the Inquisition.”

“Inquisition? But it’s been centuries since… Maker,” Rylen breathed. “Serious, indeed.”

“Yes. Her Right Hand, a Seeker by the name of Cassandra Pentaghast, has offered me the position of Commander of the Inquisition’s forces,” leaning back in his chair, Cullen spoke the next with quiet conviction. “And I need a second. You, if you’re willing.”

“Leave the Order?” brow furrowed in consternation, Rylen paused his head mid-shake. “What about lyrium?”

“A supply with the dwarves has already been established. Any templar who wishes to join our ranks will have their full rations.”

“Bloody hell,” sighing, he pulled off his gloves and tossed them to one side of his mostly bare desk. “You know what? I’ll do it. Don’t even care what it involves. If you’ve gone and joined, it’s obviously a noble cause. Sign me up, lad.”

“Well, that went more smoothly than I imagined,” Cullen chuckled. “Do you think any of your templars would accompany you?”

“Some might. Actually, most probably will. We're withering away here with no real purpose these last few months. I’ll ask tomorrow, it’s already late and I promised my family I’d visit them for supper tonight. It’s my eldest niece’s 14th birthday today, and apparently, I’ll be demoted to least favorite uncle if I don’t show,” he grinned. “So come on, go grab a clean set of clothes and let’s go get saddled up.”

“Oh no,” Cullen protested, “I couldn’t possibly intrude.”

“I’ll be offended if you don’t come, laddie. And then I’ll have to tell my Ma why I’m so ornery on such a special night, and she’ll get mad at you, and then my sisters will get mad at you, and their daughters, and believe me, you don’t want all of the Kinnaird women angry at you. So get a move on. Well? I haven’t signed anything yet, you’re not my Commander tonight,” Rylen laughed at his dumbstruck expression.

“In that case,” grinning, Cullen slung his bag over one shoulder. “Where’s the barracks?”

***

The noise from the people gathered inside the double story stone cottage and the glow of warm light from the hearth and lanterns spilled out into the street, casting dancing shadows on the paved yard. It was a modest home, not dissimilar to the other buildings on this quiet alley. Iron horseshoes echoed through the dusty twilight air as Cullen followed Rylen to the hitching post, tying off his mount’s reins securely.

“Rylen Darach Kinnaird, you are late!”

Cullen chuckled as the other man winced at the reprimand, smiling politely as a handsome older woman with the same dark, oaken toned hair as Rylen, albeit laced with silvery white strands, stomped out onto the porch, brandishing a wooden spoon in one hand. 

“I came as soon as I could,” he muttered sheepishly. “Ma, this is Cullen Rutherford. He’s the Knight-Captain from Kirkwall. Or, was, at least.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mistress Kinnaird,” Cullen offered her a small bow, causing the woman to flush in the warm light.

“None of that now. Call me Amelie. Thank the Maker you’ve finally arrived, the children are all about to riot if we don’t eat soon.”

Following his mother into the boisterous house, Rylen protested, “You could have started without me, you know that.”

“Nonsense,” she smacked his arm with the spoon she still held. “We rarely get to see you as it is. The vultures can wait a few- Errol, you best not be touching that pie, young man!” A child of about 8 years shot straight up into the air, scampering away from the kitchen into the mayhem in the larger room. There were seven other adults in the main family room, Rylen’s siblings fairly easy for Cullen to pick out since most of them shared the same wavy chestnut locks as their brother, the same blunt nose and proud chin. It was impossible to even begin to count the children; tiny bodies swirled in a blur of skirts and vests around the open space, their delighted giggles and shrieks all converging on their uncle as soon as the pair stepped into the room.

“Uncle Ry Ry!”

“Rylennnnnn did you bring me anything?”

“Why would he bring you anything, it’s my birthday!”

“Well nobody’s getting anything if you lot trample me into the rug!” Unwillingly, they all clambered off of the flattened templar, who lay wheezing on the ground in mock pain.

“Are they always like this?” Cullen grinned.

“Aye. Sorry about the noise,” Rylen groaned, pushing himself to his feet.

“I don’t mind,” Cullen replied softly. “It reminds me of home.” Leaning over to pick up the youngest babe who had crawled over and was insistently tugging on his uncle’s breeches, Rylen tossed him up into his arms, smirking as another of his niece’s did the same to Cullen. “...Would you like me to pick you up?” She nodded, ashy brown curls bobbing around her shoulders. “Alright.”

Watching as his new Commander comfortably juggled the child, Rylen smiled to himself. Family, home. He always forgot how much he missed it until he came back. The Circle was always so much more subdued, quiet, and reserved, and after serving there for so long, those same characteristics were now reflected in him. True, he had always been on the more studious side, compared to his siblings, but the differences now were glaring. If he left the Order, as Cullen had, could this be his future? To be bound to a different oath, another path? Would it lead to a family like the one he had grown up in? To be able to freely choose a wife, without the Chantry’s permission, to be just another normal couple. It didn’t even sound plausible.

“Everyone grab a plate! Cullen, you come in first, dear.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t-”

“Take the plate, son,” Rylen’s father chuckled. “Just because you’re new, doesn’t mean Amelie still won’t beat you with that wooden spoon of hers.”

“Ah, yes, messere. This all smells delicious.”

“Flatterer,” hitting him with her spoon anyways, Rylen’s mother giggled at the compliment, then squawked and thumped her husband across the chest as he reached down to pinch her bottom. “Ian! Behave yourself, we have guests!”

Aye, if he ever did marry, he wanted a relationship like his parents. Even after all these years and five children, it was obvious to anyone who saw them that they were still just as in love today as they were the day they married. _A love like that is one in a million though_ , he sighed. _Best not to dwell on it, who would I find to suit me anyhow? Besides, I’ve got a job to do._

“Rylen, come eat!”

“Yes, Ma.” No, he’d be content with his lot in life. And perhaps keep an open mind. After all, who knew where this Inquisition would lead him?

**Author's Note:**

> I get giggles at imagining both Cullen and Rylen getting smacked around by Rylen's tiny mother.


End file.
